


Fade to black

by i_gaze_at_scully



Series: Movie night [14]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, RST, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smut, finally lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 16:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19360537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_gaze_at_scully/pseuds/i_gaze_at_scully





	Fade to black

They wake when the wind, in a tattered rampage, a haphazard fanfare, knocks Scully’s decorative tin right off the windowsill. When half opened mail goes flying off her bureau and something else in the kitchen goes  _thud_. She startles awake, shoots up like an exorcism, blind to the warm body beside her as he gently rouses, somehow unperturbed. 

Mulder’s t-shirt clings and bunches as he turns onto his side, unyielding to the half-conscious tugging and correcting he’s attempting. His brows furrow in frustration and he mumbles something that gets lost in the space between his dream and his lips. She watches him for a moment, for that moment forgetting the destruction around her, until the wind kicks up again and she jumps out of bed to catch a picture frame before it falls. She slams the window shut and, with a backwards glance at a still waking Mulder, goes around and shuts the rest of the windows in her apartment, too. On her way back to the bedroom, she winds up in the bathroom staring at her reflection - tousled hair, tired eyes. It’s a full minute that she stares at herself, thinking and unthinking at the same time, before sliding her underwear down her sore thighs and sitting on the toilet. She rests her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, nursing a headache that’s as likely to be from the wine as the wondering. 

 _All in_ , remember? 

And she remembers. 

She remembers him wrapping her up in his arms like he had the night before, like she was something to be held, to behold. Remembers the pivotal pivot, his face an inch from hers, his arm still snug around her twisting waist. The feeling of his wine-soaked tongue staining her lips, her neck, the underside of her breasts. The laughter cut off in gasping _please_ s and  _yess_ es and undying moans. The heat, god they must’ve lit the world on fire, the heat and sweat and sparks flying. How he hovered over her clit long enough that, like a magnet, like a marionette, like nothing in the world could stop it, her hips rose to meet his mouth in a cataclysmic explosion. The way the world stopped the first time when he caught her eye and all she saw was unadulterated desire, and the second time when he came and breathed her name into the air like a prayer. 

Red ovals have formed on her thighs when she finally stands. 

There’s something brilliant about the man who does not sleep sleeping through a microcosmic hurricane. Scully leans on the door frame in her bedroom, hands tucked into her elbows, and Mulder speaks like honey with his eyes closed.

“Mm, looks like a storm’s a-brewing.” Slung full across the bed now, his head somehow ended up on her pillow. “Hope Chez Scully’s got good storm shutters.” 

“You missed it,” she states.

“So far,” he counters, eyes still closed, a smirk forming on his lips. She hums in gracious acknowledgment, her own smirk forming, unseen by him. 

“C’mere, Scully,” he says, finally opening his eyes. She finds herself standing at the foot of her bed, arms still tucked. 

“There’s no room,” she argues, and he laughs. Languidly propping himself up on his elbow, he makes a show of moving back to his side, patting the bed when her side is clear. 

“Better?” He asks as she perches at the edge, a playfulness in his voice that helps her lay back down. She hums, and the vibrations had no sooner stilled than he rolls himself back to her side, crashing next to her and onto her and under her all at once. His arms tighten around her stomach as it bounces in ridiculous giggles, his lips blowing raspberries against her skin as her legs thrash. She catches her breath enough to put some room between them and she blows the hair out of her face. 

“Mulder,” she laughs. “What was that?” 

“The rest of the hurricane,” he offers, gusting a puff of air in her direction, depositing some of the hair she’d moved right back onto her forehead. She scrunches her eyebrows at him, but before she can blow the hairs back, he takes the strands between his fingers and gently pushes them behind her ear himself.

“Morning.” He voice is hushed now, his smile bright, his cheeks rosy. His breath smells and his hair is one continuous cowlick. She finds herself pivoting once again, on her back as he hovers expectantly above in wait for her response. 

“Morning,” she whispers back, running a hand down his arm, past the elbow, meeting his hand where it is on her cheek.

He brings that hand to his lips, places a kiss to her palm, mumbles  _morning_   into it. Finds her pulse point and bids it  _morning_  too. 

Twenty-four hours ago there was the hiding and running and contrived humor, and now there is only his lips on her wrist and his weight pressed alongside her whole body. And last night. There is that, too.

“Last night…” She starts, an exhale, her thoughts occupied by sweeter things. He hums into her collarbone. 

“Which part?” He mumbles, and hums again when her fingers tentatively make their way into his hair. 

“What do you mean which part?”

“The part where we watched a movie?” She feels the vibrations running from his lips through her skin and straight to her heart. “The part where we told each other we were ‘all in?’” A kiss to the hollow of her throat. “Or the part after that?” A long, purposeful bite to where her neck meets her shoulder, eliciting a shudder and a moan. His hand ghost over her chest, barely brushing against her breasts as it makes its way from her sternum to the fine hairs below her navel. He presses a thumb to her hipbone and his lips to her neck. His erection is hot against her thigh and she can feel a slight rhythm to his hips. Her hips in turn levitate and fall in time, her breath and his name catching in her throat. 

“Because,” he continues, “we haven’t had a bonafide movie night since you were in the hospital, so I thought that was pretty special.”

She laughs, a breathless, distracted chuckle, focusing on the sensation of his fingers playing in her curls.

“I didn’t realize that,” she admits. 

“Mhm.”

“I’ve always had a thing for morning sex,” he muses, lowering his head to her breast, his tongue circling around her nipple. “So much time to dedicate to what you missed at night.” True to his word, he spends forever and ever on that one breast, nipping and kissing, running his thumb over and around. She feels pressure building in her stomach already.

“Was it too cliché of us?” He lifts his head to face level with her, a goofy, lust-addled grin on his face. “We’ve watched so many movies together, we might as well live in one. I wouldn’t change a thing, but the tale’s as old as time.” 

“That’s ‘Beauty and the Beast,’ not Hercules,” she replies, her eyes closed in focus. He hums again, lowers his head to the other breast.

“Jesus, Mulder,” she moans, running her fingers through his hair. He comes up moments later, to her dismay, but his features are tender, soft.

“I love you, Scully,” he whispers. “Clichés be damned. I love you.” 

Their hearts, synchronized in slow, unhurried rhythms, gallop together now, palpitating and running, speeding away from them. There’s so much care in his eyes, such authentic devotion - all the proof she’d ever need is held in the hazel of his eyes.

“I love you, too,” she breathes. He breaks into a smile, and she mirrors it.

“If we  _were_  in a movie,” he notes, “this would be the part where I scoop you up and kiss the hell out of you. Carry you into the sunset, fade to black and all that.”

“And all that,” she echoes, both hands methodically massaging his scalp, tingling fingers waving through his hair. “It’s not sunset, but you can still kiss the hell out of me.”

“Deal.”

And he does.


End file.
